


Trash Cans and Christmas Lights

by DovaBunny



Series: Fenders Ficlets [8]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenders, Let it Glow 2017, M/M, christmas office party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:56:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovaBunny/pseuds/DovaBunny
Summary: Office parties, drunk colleagues, secret Santas, and mistletoes.Need I say more?





	Trash Cans and Christmas Lights

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet for the talented and wonderful [ Andrastesknickerweasel ](https://andrastesknickerweasel.tumblr.com/) . I highly, HIGHLY recommend you go read all her work at least twice [ on her Ao3 account here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrastesKnickerweasle/pseuds/AndrastesKnickerweasle/works)

Anders stood alone under the Christmas lights, eyes bright and hopeful as they scan the crowd of people. All around were the familiar faces of colleagues and friends, gathered for the annual Christmas office party - a highlight of the year for many here at Kirkwall News. 

But tonight is about more than getting wasted on Merrill's (way too potent) eggnog, pranking colleagues, playing ‘pin the balls on the Maker’, and laughing at Hawke and Varric trying to one-up one another with their impersonations of their workmates. 

No, tonight was about one very special person. His secret Santa. 

On the 1st of December, every employee of Kirkwall News pulled a name from a hat. Custom dictated that you spoil this person with little gifts and surprises then make yourself known to them on the eve of the Christmas party - tonight. 

Anders had hastily cornered Meredith to tell her the cat turd she got in a paper bag was from him and ‘merry Christmas asshat’, then rushed to the centre of the room, his excitement tingling in every nerve of his body. If he stood in the very centre of the room, next to the tree and bathed in the Christmas lights there was no way his secret Santa could miss him.

For, you see, Anders’ secret Santa wasn’t your average secret Santa. He didn’t get drugstore chocolates and cheap blank Hallmark cards, oh no. 

It was like they knew Anders on a very personal and intimate level. From the silly grumpy cat mug, the ‘magey magic’ cupcake with blue poprocks, the Overwatch Mercy badge for his backpack, and the moving beaten-up second-hand book of poetry written by a healer mage who escaped from a circle in the Dark Ages of Thedas about how beautiful life and nature was once he escaped. Anders felt like this person knew his very soul. 

The letters that accompanied the gifts were short and in an unsteady hand, “ _ I hope you have a good day”, “Don’t drink 2 much cofee” _ , and “ _ You r special” _ , but Anders assumed they were written in haste. A busy high-end employee perhaps? Honestly, Anders didn’t care who it was. He just wanted to know them, to thank them for being the light and joy his life so desperately needed.

But seconds ticked on the minutes, and minutes to hours.  Anders had barely given himself enough time to go to the bathroom or grab something to eat, so scared their secret Santa might miss him unless they stay in the centre of the room in clear view of anyone who might be looking for him. 

But no one came. 

As midnight arrived the last of the party animals (Varric, Hawke, Zevran, Dorian, Sera, and Isabela) drunkenly tumbled their way to the exit, but not without making a last attempt to get Anders to join them in taking the festivities to the after party at Isabela and Zevran’s place. Anders politely declined. He was the last one left and had nowhere he had to be, but his secret Santa didn’t come, and it left him feeling dejected and miserable. 

Maybe they saw him and realised their mistake? Maybe they had him confused with someone else and hadn’t meant to send the gifts to him? Or maybe- No, it was no use in guessing all the reasons why he wasn’t good enough for them to have revealed themselves.

Hawke threw him one last sad knowing glance then left with the others, cheering as tiny little Merrill let rip a boisterous burp. Anders barely managed a weak smile at his friends’ antics. 

With a heavy sigh Anders dropped onto an empty chair, putting his gift for his mysterious and absent secret Santa on the table. It was a beautiful first edition of a famous illustrated book about the history of Thedas and the value of freedom, along with an exceptionally good bottle of Tevinter wine that cost half of Anders’ salary.

Anders looked up at the big tree in the centre of the room, the colourful lights flickering away festively, unknowing that it was just for him and his misery they were dancing so merrily for. 

He didn’t know what he expected, that his secret Santa would come to him with hope and happiness that matched his, that they would solidify the bond he felt through incredibly thoughtful and touching gifts with friendship and perhaps romance? 

_ Foolish, foolish man… _

Anders let his long fingers run over the wrapping of the gift, smoothing over the red lint, mind absent in his melancholy, when a throat clearing startled him.

“Is… is this seat taken?”

Anders looked up to see Fenris, the night shift cleaner, standing a few feet away gesturing to one of the empty chairs with a small smile. 

“Oh, yeah, no please sit! Sorry, you probably want to start cleaning up and here I am moping and keeping you from your work…”

“That’s okay, Anders, really.”

Anders lifted his eyes to meet Fenris’ burning green ones, to really look at him. The elf wasn’t in his usual working attire - a pair of black overalls rolled up and hanging low on his hips, a black tank top with red converse and white headphones dangling around his neck, the big blue cleaning supplies trolley trailing behind. 

No, tonight he wore dark jeans, a new pair of black sneakers, and a fitted dark grey button up shirt over his usual black tank top. No matter what he wore though, Fenris held himself with an effortless grace and air of wit and intelligence.

Anders froze at the sight. Fenris looked amazing, breathtaking really. And was it just him or did Fenris seem...nervous?

In the 9 months that he had known the elf he had never known Fenris to be nervous. 

Their friendship had started rocky, Anders was always working late researching material, writing and re-writing his articles that usually centred around social justice and activist issues. Fenris, on the other hand, liked working the night shift,  _ alone _ , when he had the whole place to himself and could listen to his music in peace. 

Which meant Anders was in his way, and disturbing his peace. 

Fenris started try to get Anders to leave by being very loud, vacuuming around Anders’ cubicle or singing badly along to the music on his iPod. Anders retaliated by accidentally stumbling over trashcans and knocking them over, or ‘spilling’ his coffee in the kitchen, both away from his cubicle so he could get some work done, earning him a fierce glare from the elf. 

It escalated until one day Fenris stuck his broom out to trip Anders after he ‘accidentally’ kicked over another bin. Anders then kept sneaking up on Fenris vacuuming and switching the plug off and on, baffling the elf who thought his vacuum was faulty, causing him to curse the damned appliance in various languages. 

When Fenris caught on he switched the salt and sugar in the kitchen as he knew Anders like to chug ridiculously sweet coffee at least once an hour when working this late at night. Anders, of course, sprayed the disgusting salty coffee all over the kitchen floor at the first sip. Fenris stormed in furious and promptly slipped on the floor, causing Anders to instinctively reach out to catch him, only to fall on top of him. 

After the shock passed the two dissolved into giggles. 

Fenris gave Anders a spare shirt he had in his locker and the two sat together sharing a cup of coffee (sans salt) and laughed over the tricks they’ve pulled on one another. 

From there a friendship blossomed. 

Anders would work late and have a mug of coffee ready for Fenris when he arrived to work at midnight. Fenris would chastise Anders for working so late and sometimes even bring him a sandwich or leftovers, reminding the man he couldn’t live off coffee alone. Anders would sometimes keep Fenris company when he cleaned the bathrooms or help him empty the bins, and in return Fenris listened to Anders ranting about some injustice, offering advice on how to approach the issue from another angle. 

They may or may not have also had races down the hallways on office chairs, and saw who could hold on the longest standing on that one old rickety floor polisher that just spun in circles. Anders knew their friendship was the real deal when Fenris suggested taking the screws out of Meredith’s chair and taping an airhorn to the bottom.

Fenris soon became Anders’ best friend, the only one who really listened when he spoke, who called him on his bullshit, and who could tell if he was having a bad day.

But here stood the elf now, looking breathtakingly gorgeous, and it was almost too much to hope for. Or was it? 

“Are you expecting anyone?” Fenris asked.

“Uhm, yeah. But it seems they might’ve ditched me.”

“Hmm,” Fenris made a thoughtful noise. “And who is this mysterious wrongdoer?”

“My secret Santa. This is actually for them,” he gestured to the gift and the wine. “I wouldn’t normally wait this long but, Fenris, this person is amazing. The gifts they got me… it was like they knew me in a way no one else does.”

“Sounds like this person really did their research on you?”

“Yeah. Pitty though, now I’ll just have to drink all this excellent wine by myself.”

“...is that Agreggio Pavali?”

“Jap. Cost a good penny too. But just as well I guess, it was a little creepy, you know, how well he knew me.”

“Creepy?” Fenris asked, his nose scrunched up with a frown.

“Yeah, total creepster I’d reckon. Probably on some ‘watch list’.”

“I beg your pardon?! I have never-”

“Gotcha,” Anders smiled bright enough to rival all the festive lights in the room. His voice turned softer then: “So it is you? You’re my secret Santa. Fen, you have no idea what these gifts have meant to me.”

“I kinda do,” Fenris returned his smile, albeit a bit shy. “You’ve been gushing about them to me nearly every night.”

Anders gasped at the realisation. “And you looked so bored and disinterested the whole time! You ass!”

Fenris laughed, a warm and rumbling sound that made Anders’ stomach do a flip. 

“Actually I… have one more gift to give.”

“Really?” Anders perked up. 

Fenris produced a simple card and held it out to Anders, who nearly tripped as he rushed to stand and meet Fenris, taking the card. 

He flipped it over to read the simple words on it, in the same unsteady hand. 

_ “Look up.” _

“Anders.”

“Hm?”

“Look up.”

There, above their heads, hung a mistletoe. Too high to notice unless one were to look for it.

“That's… convenient,” Anders smirked accusingly at Fenris.

“Isn’t it? Almost like it was specifically placed there with some forethought. The person must be very intelligent and calculating. Most definitely deserving of the reward the mistletoe promises as dictated by christmas custom.”

Fenris was wearing that infuriating smirk that made Anders’ toes curl and insides go all gooey by how hot he was. How was it Anders only realised now how far gone he was for Fenris? 

Anders smiled at him and closed the distance between them, lifting his hands to carefully curl around Fenris’ neck. His heart was racing in his chest and if Fenris noticed his palms were clammy he didn’t say anything. 

Anders took an unsteady breath, their lips close enough to brush, Fenris’ green eyes heavy-lidded and smouldering as they locked onto his golden-brown ones, the expectation and hope in them matched his own. 

“Fenris?” Anders whispered under his breath.

“Yes?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Their lips came together in a kiss that was both soothing and igniting, lips soft and warm and incredible. It was like he got the Christmas wish he didn’t even know he made. 

 

“Hey Fen?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to… maybe… come over to my place for Christmas dinner tomorrow?”

“Why, are you going to make a mess?”

“You asshole.”

“You like me.”

“...I do.”

“Then I’ll be there. But kick over one trash can, so help me!”

“I’ll be sure to hide the salt.”


End file.
